chapter 3

Molly decided not to mention the tattoo to her boyfriend, John. She felt as though he wouldn’t understand that it had been a simple mistake on the artist’s half. It was something she didn’t fully understand herself, actually, but there was no sense in making a big deal out of something that no one was to blame for. After all, she’d gotten her money back, and a free tattoo as well.
It wasn’t the tattoo she’d always wanted, but Molly prided herself on being able to make the most out of any bad situation. She stood in the mirror and looked at the new addition to her skin for the umpteenth time.

It was…well, it was crisp, that was for sure. The words practically jumped out at you; it was as if they burned themselves into your brain. Even as Molly stared into the mirror, she caught herself mouthing them over and over again—“Fat cow slut, fat cow slut…”

Its colours complemented her own—it seemed to bring out the pink in her lips, the red in her cheeks. It emphasized her rich brown eyes, and when she grinned, it somehow seemed to make her teeth appear more white.

Of course, the wording of the tattoo brought undue attention to her weight—Molly was not skinny by any means. Her design desk job had her growing a bit of a potbelly over the last few years. But she knew that she had a great body with many strengths. Her breasts had gone up a cup size with the office weight and ensured that men rarely looked at her face while talking to her, and the miniskirt that she’d worn last night (but, strangely, been unable to find that morning) showed off her fairly plump butt.

She shook her head—she was trying to focus on the upside of the situation. Like the size of the tattoo—it was perfect. Large enough that it was easily readable, even if one was standing halfway across the room. Of course, that was going to make it that much more difficult to cover up—Molly definitely didn’t want anyone at her work to see it.

Molly shut her eyes, and breathed heavily. Positive. Think positive. When she closed her eyes, she felt like she could feel rain, washing away all her negative thoughts, cleansing her of all of her worries and doubts about the new tattoo.

If she had to cover up the tattoo, she wouldn’t be able to wear her usual combination of jeans and a shirt—any time she bent over, she risked showing off even a hint of her back, and as soon as anyone saw that she had a tattoo, they’d want to read what it said.

But she could easily find the positive in this—she had a handful of dresses in her closet that she never wore. John loved them, but she’d always felt that they were unprofessional—this was a perfect opportunity to bring them out, start wearing something a little more light, a bit more ‘fun’ to work.

Molly opened her eyes with a big smile on her face, she was starving. She checked herself out in the mirror once more. Yes, if she wore dresses, she’d be able to hide the tattoo (almost a pity—it somehow set off her hair, making it seem longer, thicker…) and show off her legs at the same time. It was a win-win situation.

The man with the glasses would be so proud.

Time to get something to eat.

* * *

The weekend flew past. On her usual Saturday night date with John, Molly managed to avoid bringing up the tattoo. It came close when he noticed her wince in pain as she sat down, but she simply claimed that she’d fallen over and injured herself last night, while out drinking with the girls. This also served as an excuse not to go home with him (as she normally would.) She knew that if she ended up back at his apartment, there was no way she’d be able to resist his advances, and she’d inevitably end up disrobing and showing him the tattoo.

Sunday, Molly found herself antsy, pacing the apartment. She saw John more than once a week, but Saturday was typically the only night she was able to stay over, and without her weekly release, she was filled with an unexpected energy. While walking to let off some steam, she passed a Krispy Kreme just a block away. The smell was infectious. She had to have one. She sat at the counter. These tasted so much better than she remembered; the flaky texture of the sugar glaze crumbling on her plump lips. One became three, then four. Molly noticed she was getting so wet…oh, how long could she keep this from John? Molly put the 5th donut in her purse and rushed back to her apartment to get herself off.

Reactions around the office on Monday morning when Molly turned up wearing a dress were mixed. The men said nothing, but provided a steady supply of appreciative looks, and the women complimented her and asked where she’d bought it from (except a rare jealous few who simply glared at her as she walked past.)

Monday mornings were always bagel day. Molly was ravenous and decided to have 2 this time. The male attention did nothing but increase her restlessness, and by the end of the day Molly was going out of her way to show off her assets. When Ben from accounting checked her out as she leaned over the photocopier, she made a point of pulling out some paper from the bottom tray, just to make sure that he got the best possible view.

When she noticed the new intern, Luke, peeking down her top, she started toying with her necklace, dipping it in and out of her plentiful cleavage, just to watch the embarrassed look on her face.

The more Molly tempted the men, the hungrier she became and the wetter she got. She ordered a Chipotle burrito with chips and guac for lunch. By the time work finished, she was seriously considering calling John that night and seeing if he was able to come around and scratch her itch, but when she remembered that she had to keep her tattoo a secret, that plan went out the window.

Instead, she made another visit to the Krispy Kreme, conveniently open late, and dinked around on her phone. She was the only one at the counter. It felt like a stage for her

This time at night, the store was full of men drinking coffee and reading their papers. Molly was acutely aware of the men behind her, glancing up every now and then as she ordered another couple donuts.

She wondered if they were checking her out. If so, it would be a disappointing view. Molly had dressed in sweatpants, an old college top with stains on it. The pants were so baggy, they’d have to imagine what her ass looked like.

Molly ate for hours longer than she’d intended to, until the last man left from behind her, and there was no one left to watch her eat. Next time, she mused, she would have to wear something a bit more fun to watch—perhaps some skin-tight pants, a shorter top…maybe something that showed off her tattoo.

The tattoo dominated her dreams that night—she imagined herself stripped naked, bent over one of the booths while all the men at the Krispy Kreme came up and inspected her tattoo, one after another. Each man stroked the tattoo, tracing the words with their fingers from top to bottom, until their hand reached her ass—at that point, they spanked her, punishing her for being such a slut.
As she felt each hand connect with her ass, it grew. Smack by smack, her ass grew larger, rounder, bouncier…by the time all the men had had their turn, it was a perfect specimen, a large, round, cellulite ridden beauty. In her dream, Molly collapsed onto the booth, her ass throbbing, proud of her magnificent behind, proud of the tattoo that announced to the world what she was, her purpose in life.

Molly woke up in the middle of the night to a tremendous wetness between her legs. Molly had been in relationships since puberty had hit, and had always had a guy on hand when she needed one. She hadn't masturbated since high school. For the third night in a row, she pleasured herself before drifting off to sleep once more.